


Mercy

by Asmodeus1987



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU-LIKE-YOU-HAVE-NO-IDEA, Action/Adventure, Alpha Daenerys, Alpha Jon, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beta Brienne, Beta Jaime, But Not Quite Book!Dorne Either, But Not Without A Conscious Yet, Canon - Book, Character Study, Dark Daenerys Targaryen, Drama, F/M, First Time, Fix-It, I'm No War Strategist But I'm Trying, Jaime Being A Child, Jon Snow is King in the North, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Jon and Tyrion Kissed at The Wall, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Not Show!Dorne, Oberyn Being a Dick, Omega Oberyn, Omega Tyrion, Romance, Season 4 AU, Season 5 AU, Visions in dreams, War, season 1 AU, season 8 AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-04-05 20:34:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19047913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asmodeus1987/pseuds/Asmodeus1987
Summary: Daenerys was intrigued by his request. She acted as if Jon had stuttered, tilting her face with the curiosity of a lethal bird."Forgive Tyrion." Jon mumbled. "Show mercy.""Why, because you love him?"::::::Season 8 AU, where a drunk Tyrion decides to revive old flames after defeating the Dead, Jon is indeed a Targeryen, Jaime is visited by ghosts, and Oberyn Martell never attended the Purple Wedding.





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a translation of the original work in spanish. Any mistakes are mine. :) Hope you like it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Mm." Daenerys analyzed Jon from head to toe. "I've never understood it. This... dance between you two. You know Lord Tyrion betrayed me by trying to get his sister out of the City before I could get to her. Mercy, it's the last thing I will give him. "

**prologue**

**[+][+][+]**

" _Should I pretend that you didn't exist?_

_Should I act like you're somebody I miss?"_

-MARINA, "Emotional Machine."

  **[+] [+] [+]**

**Now.**

**[+] [+] [+]**

**JON I**

**[+] [+] [+]**

* * *

 

 

"Forgive him."

Daenerys was intrigued by his request. She acted as if Jon had stuttered, tilting her face with the curiosity of a lethal bird. "Pardon me?"

"Forgive Tyrion." Jon mumbled. "Show mercyー"

"Why, because you love him?"

Without emotion behind it, the statement didn't feel like a reproach. Only an icy observation. It caused Jon a lump in his throat. "Show mercy because you are capable of it."

"Mm." Daenerys analyzed Jon from head to toe. "I've never understood it. This... dance between you two. You know Lord Tyrion betrayed me by trying to get his sister out of the City before I could get to her. Mercy, it's the last thing I will give him. "

"What about me? What about my loyalty? I've prove my fealty to you. I'm standing by your side even now. Free him and pass him to my custody. He would be my prisoner, a servant of the North. You would never see him again."

Silence.

Daenerys walked towards him with determination; an echo of their first meeting in the room of Dragonstone. "You haven't answered my question."

Jon lifted his chin in instinctive defiance.

Something in the neat image of the Queen seemed to tremble at the lack of cooperation. Her eyes, briefly, seemed to glow violet.

"You just sacrificed him, you know?" The woman raised one of her hands to caress Jon's cheek. He was surprised to feel it warm. "Your silence just confirmed it to me, more than any other truth that would have come out of your mouth. Jon... You're naive if you think that this kind of sentimentality cannot be used against you. Lord Tyrion will be sentenced to death, because his betrayal was a series of multiple errors of judgment that almost cost me  _everything_. I won't give him mercy. I will make an  _example_ of him to anyone who wants to follow in his footsteps."

Jon tangled his glove with her hand to throw it away from his face. "His brother will take revenge."

"Jaime Lannister has only one hand, no army, and his house is in ashes. Why should I fear him?"

- _Because he will not stand alone._  Jon was certain that Sansa would use this moment to rise up in arms against the New Queen. She would feed Jaime Lannister's fury and use it to her advantage.

The clarity of the fact left Jon feeling dizzy; and at the same time, so much older. "But you are, aren't you? Afraid."

That was obviously the last thing Daenerys had expected to hear.

Jon was upon her in a moment. "It was fear that led you to do what you did. You were scared of losing everything you wanted. I know that. But, it's not too late yet. You can stop. Show  _mercy_. Show everyone you're  _not_ your father."

Daenerys allowed Jon's arms to encircle her waist. She allowed him to get close to her, let their scents be woven togetherーDragon with dragon. Jon softened his voice, bringing his face to Daenerys' level, wanting to capture the woman's full attention.

For a moment, the swarm of pheromones were in full effect. The eyes of the Dragon Queen became opaque,  _compatible_ and  _interested_ , in the same way it had been in Winterfell, begging a drunken Jon for his silence.

Then, the woman blinked. The spell broke.

"Take him away."

Jon felt a new presence behind him. He didn't bother turning around to confirm that Greyworm would get the pleasure of arresting him, after all. The son of a bitch.

Jon waited for the Unsullied's gloved hand on his shoulder. The first punch went straight to Greyworm's nose. Jon had the pleasure of feeling the cartilage bend at the impact. He didn't stop there. Jon recalled the efficiency in which Greyworm had cut the Lannister soldier's throats. Men who hadn't carried a real threat.

Women. Children. Fury boiled through his blood. Jon wondered if that was the first symptom of madness.

Greyworm was a small man, slender, and fast. Additionally, a wild force that Daenerys had unleashed on the world, ejected of his old military discipline. Jon took advantage of that and sought to provoked him. Closed fists were soon planted on Jon's stomach.

As soon as he got him up close, Jon hugged Greyworm against his torso, holding him firmly.

The dagger had been easy to hide; a light weapon. Simple.

Effective.

"No!" Dany's scream was a penance that Jon endured, releasing Greyworm's body. It dropped to the floor, eyes wide. The woman called for the rest of the guards in valyrian, kneeling in front of the agonizing figure of her Commander.

It was too late. Jon had pierced his heart. A clemency not really deserved.

Time slowed down while Jon watched the Unsullied Guards enter the Throne Room, their spears upright. Jon watched them approach. Knowing that without Longclaw he wouldn't be able to beat the odds ten to one, he hardened his body in preparationー

 _ー_ _Fire_.

Jon threw himself to the ground, the scorching heat of the flames almost melting the leather of his uniform to the skin of his back. Distantly he registered the cries of agony. The smell of burnt flesh. Jon tried to open his eyes. He couldn't. The fire was too powerful.

Rhaegal's growl continued with the infernal surge; apparently a poignant objection.

Jon didn't think twice. He rolled over in the direction of the looming beast, and crawled over the ruins of the stone walls to get to Rhaegal.

A wing was flexed within reach and Jon climbed it.

 _"Keligon, issa tresy!_ "

Jon held on to the horns tightly. He evoked the little valyrian he had learned to be able to command flight. " _Sōv_... _Sōvegon_.  _Sōvegon!_ "

Unlike Drogon, Rhaegal wasn't covered in snow. The dragon was hot to the contact.

It took flight immediately, deaf to the calls of its Mhysa.

Jon exhaled heavily.

Well, then.

That was unexpected.

Drogon was heard in the distance, a quite confused whine breaking the stillness of the Dead City surrounding them.

Jon could relate.

He hadn't factoring in the creature's intervention on his behalf, despite the attachment forged by war. Jon had never tried to compete against the bond Daenerys and Rhaegal had.

Rhaegal had burned King's Landing just like its brother, after all. What kind of influence could Jon have, if not in that?

It didn't really matter. In the end, Jon was being transported out of certain death. He had the thought to feel grateful and run with it.

- _SouthWallSouthWallSouthWallLet's go._

For Jon, directing a dragon basically consisted in conjuring a destination in his head with all his might. Jon didn't possess the grace, or the ability, to command a beast with a single look. He only had his gut. And trial and error. So far, inserting an image in his head seemed to do the trick.

Rhaegal rippled his colossal figure in a swift turn, just as Jon wished it, flying towards the south wall, to what was left of the Gods Gate.

Once there it landed on the edge of the gate.

On the other side, Jon saw the camp where the Northmen had settled on the outskirts of King's Landing, prior to the massacre Daenerys had caused.

A single thread of black smoke traced the sky. The signal.

It had worked.

Jon closed his eyes momentarily. Part of his spirit was revived with the sign.

It was done.

"You weren't part of the plan, my friend." Jon stroked the dragon's back. "You still don't have to be."

Drogon was heard again. Now, closer than before. It felt like an inevitability.

Jon had a choice in his hands, then.

To stick to the old plan, or to keep  _improvising._

The smoke intensified. Arya, no doubt about it. Letting him know she had managed to extract Tyrion from the tower where he had been held prisoner. Jon guessed that if Arya had succeeded on returning to the camp alive, she has alerted Ser Davos on the oncoming attack Jon's instructions would result into. His people would be left waiting.

The battle yells of the remaining Dothraki were a sign that improvisation would have to be his best choice. Daenerys must have already warned them of the betrayal.

Arya flashed through Jon's mind. Sansa and Bran followed. The  _corpses_ , forever imprinted in the back of his eyelids.

He thought of Tyrionーtheir  _constantly-interrupted_ historyーbrewing between them.

In hindsight it wasn't much of a choice.

"To the square!"

The dragon took off again. Jon inhaled, ash thickening in his throat. Everything smelled of damn Death.

Jon hadn't assumed to be alive for this part of the plan. He had kept hopeーa fool's hopeーthat Daenerys would just… stop.

Despite being armed with the perfect weapon to stick in her chest, Jon had suspected he would be unable to carry out the final blow. So he had  _fucking_ hoped.

While he distracted the Queen, he had planned for Arya and Tyrion to be out of King's Landing and on his way to Winterfell, so that by then consequences of Jon's betrayal would be felt only in  _his_ skin.

Another idiotic notion, Sansa would say.

Rhaegal circle around the arena of the Dragon pit.

Jon tugged at the horns he was holding onto and tightened his legs like a horse ride. The dragon even snorted like one when it felt the movement, perhaps feeling its own amusement. Rhaegal followed where Jon pictured in his head almost immediately.

Objectively, Rhaegal wouldn't be an opponent for Drogon. Its wings still hadn't healed properly from Viseryon's attack, and the flight to King's Landing had costed Dany another weapon against Euron's navel troops, since Rhaegal hadn't been able to fly at their pace and had been left behind on Dragonstone.

So, Jon would have to opt for the  _second_  best blow on Daenerys's militar defenses.

For this, Jon deliberately closed off his emotions. The ubiquitous voice of Ned StarkーHe shut down that too.

There would be no honor in this.

In his mind, Jon visualized the Aegon's Hill that led to the Red Keep, the central point where the formation of Unsullied had chosen for their station.

Rhaegal obeyed.

Drogon was coming straight towards them in the opposite direction. Jon held on and tugged again at Rhaegal's horns.

- _UpUpUpUpUp._   _FollowTheSun!_

Rhaegal was lighter. Being smaller than its brother aided its agility. It was capable of sharper turns. Jon encouraged the dragon to continue upwards; to hide in the dazzling source of light. Daenerys would avoid attacking them openly; she would avoid hurting Rhaegal directly, her motherly love incapacitating her for a moment.

A moment that Jon could transform into a victory.

- _You're naive if you think this kind of sentimentalism cannot be used against you._

Up up up.

Then, they fell.

Jon saw land rushing towards themーAegon's hillーand opened his mouth.

_"Dracarys."_

 

 

* * *

**[+] [+] [+]**

**...**

**[+] [+] [+]**

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NdA: Catharsis, come to me!
> 
> Although the built up to Evil!Danny was the most ridiculous storyline ever, Dumb and Dumber did it. Now I would like Jon to deal with her as she is now. This is why I chose this point in the story as a start. As a writer, if you made me choose between Cersei's or Dany's POV, I'm more attracted to explore Daenerys as an opponent.
> 
> And also? Rhaegal's death was just stupid.
> 
> Stay tuned for more Jon/Tyrion sexual tension + Jaime/Brienne being clumsy in love in the next chapter.
> 
> Translations:
> 
> Keligon, issa tresy = Stop, my son.
> 
> Sōvegon = Fly high.
> 
> Trivia:
> 
> Gods Gate & Aegon's Hills are book canon location of KL.


	2. i. I've done some things (that I can't speak of)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guided by nostalgia, Jon replaced the reality with the echo from the past - Tyrion curled up in a similar fashion on the way to Castle Black. Brazen enough to keep searching for Jon Snow's body heat, as long as Uncle Benjen's frowned brown wasn't directed at their way.
> 
> It was hard to consolidate his past self with the person he was now. That naive boy. The Jon who'd stuttered and choked on his own saliva, every time Tyrion Lannister had opened his own mouth to provide witty remarks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: I, by no means, consider myself to be an expert at military strategies. But hey, I tried my best. Hope it stills entertains you. Also, I have studied the maps of King's Landing, but what D&D gave us doesn't make sense. I ended up with a weird mash of the two canons.
> 
> Timeline: This chapter starts in 8x04 "The Last of the Starks." After the feast, some things will change, though.

  **i.**

**[+] [+] [+]**

" _Cause I've done some things that I can't speak_

_And I've tried to wash you away_

_but you just won't leave._ "

-Halsey " _Haunting_. "

**[+] [+] [+]**

**Before.**

**Winterfell.**

**[+] [+] [+]**

**JON II**

**[+] [+] [+]**

* * *

 

 

"Ah! Pardon me. Must be drunker than I thought… Suddenly all doors look  _quite_ alike."

Jon, who had been in the process of removing his leather jerkin, froze with the unexpected incursion in his bedroom. It irritated him more than expected, his privacy invaded for a second time on the same night.

His confrontation with Dany still intoxicated him. The last thing he needed was Lord Tyrion bringing more emotional conundrums to his door.

Feeling drained, Jon pulled off the rest of his jerkin, and threw it to chest at the bottom of the bed.

Seeing Tyrion still standing in the doorway, Jon rolled his eyes. "Make up your mind, then. You're letting the cold in."

"Mm. Yes. A real tragedy for our balls, considering what we have overcome to preserve them." The wooden door squeaked, telling Jon it had been closed again. From the corner of his eye, he saw the Lannister tilt vertiginous to his right in his attempt to get closer to the fire. Jon smiled to himself, despite the circumstances.

The smell of Dornish wine was detectable to his sensitive nose. The Alpha recognized the  _sweetness_. And underneath, a dense layer of something else. Something spicy.

"By the Seven. What has she done to you now, boy?"

Jon bared his teeth.

Tyrion bent his head at the command to back down. He dropped into the chair previously occupied by Daenerys, close to the fireplace. The Half-Man breathed deeply,  _evaluating_ the residues of pheromones still imprinted in the place.

Jon waited for another cruel jest.

"Like fresh meat cooking over coals, don't you think?"

"Pardon me?" Jon piqued back, removing his boots. Then he stood, his gaze still focused on the lingering memories.

He could still  _hear_ Dany  _begging_ him.

"The comparison dawned on me after she rained fire down on the Tarlys. The poor bastards." The grumble was soon followed by a heavy sigh. "The smell. Quite suited for her, don't you agree? Pork meat on hot coals, angrily hissing, but at the same time enticing for a bite. I suppose it's a quite a tempting scent for a wolf like you. "

Jon snorted. "I'm not interested in exchanging sweet poems about our Queen一"

"Poems, biological urges. What is the difference?"

"You're drunk." Jon rubbed his forehead, falling on the feather bed. "You're not talking sense."

"What did she want?" Tyrion tilted his face toward him with the fragility of the rag dolls Sansa had played with as a child. "What did she do to you?"

Jon raised his eyes to Tyrion's level. Their gazes connected. The warmth identified all over the bedroom.

Licking his lips, Jon chose to circle around the issue. "She smells like blood. Like an open wound, still bleeding. At least to me."

The shadows were in Tyrion's favor, covering half his expression. It made him hard to read. His voice, however, was a drop of poison when it made it out of his lips. "Convenient. One could almost argue you two were predators fated to meet. A perfect compatibility waiting to happen."

"No." Jon whispered. "What attracts me to her it's something that petrifies me. She reminds me of when I used to stare down the Wall in Castle Black, and saw darkness looking back." That wasn't how a compatibility should feel like, was it? Jon was beginning to doubt it.

A long pause allowed the confession to sink in. Jon thought it would stop the interrogation about his -anticlimactic- love life to go on.

He was wrong.

"You're sweet with her." The whisper sounded like a reproach. "You're gentle, like a lovesick boy. You don't seem petrified when you're with her, nor around her… at least you didn't used to. Now, well… Seems you'd rather go in the opposite direction that to cross words with her.  _Why_ is this? What has happened?"

Jon frowned. "Nothing."

"Something has surely  _changed_."

Jon was silent.

"I saw her on the way out of here, Jon. Her face was made out of stone."

So much for an accidental invasion, then. Jon wasn't really surprised. "I assure you, m'Lord, if you're concerned about the North taking up arms against our Queen for a trifling disagreement-"

"I wasn't talking about the political health of our alliance."

"Really? That would be a first. "

Tyrion's laugh was colored with surprise. "Good boy. You  _are_ learning."

The appreciation.

It lit up something in Jon he had thought extinct ages ago. Good boy.

- _Good boy._ Tyrion had whispered, curled up against thick tree roots with an open book on his lap. - _Sweet boy._

"If you prefer I can walk you up to your quarters, my Lord. Seeing the great challenge steps represent for you at the moment."

"Ah. In addition of an improved understanding of political relationships, I see you have also acquired a sense of humor. Would surprises never cease tonight?"

Jon smiled.

Tyrion sighed. "I've slept in worse places. You know that. Just allow me a short rest near the fire and I'll be gone before dawn. I will only require one little more demonstration of hospitality to warm my legs and my cold balls..."

Jon threw him one of the bed's furs.

"Uff! So uncivilized!" Tyrion's curls flowed from the top of the skins, while the half-man squirmed around the chair. A quite peculiar sight.

"Anything else you might need?"

Finally able to breath again, the Lion stretched his body across the chair's length, trying to find a better position. "Just one last question."

The snarl was already rising from his throat.

"Oh, settle down, old wolf! I promise it doesn't involve complicated issues with unsatisfied women nor proverbial stabbings in anyone's back."

Jon sighed. " _What_  is it?" The sound of boots hitting the ground from Tyrion's direction attracted his attention back to his guest. He found the Half-Man intense eyes sparkling red, the flames almost living inside them.

"How does it feel? To fly in one of those beasts."

Oh.

Jon thought about it. Then, he got distracted, since Tyrion Lannister, covered from chest to toes with Jon's skins, did something to his insides. It felt sharp, a needle prick between his ribs.

Guided by nostalgia, Jon replaced the reality with the echo from the past - Tyrion curled up in a similar fashion on the way to Castle Black. Brazen enough to keep searching for Jon Snow's body heat, as long as Uncle Benjen's frowned brown wasn't directed at their way.

It was hard to consolidate his past self with the person he was now. That naive boy. The Jon who'd stuttered and choked on his own saliva, every time Tyrion Lannister had opened his own mouth to provide witty remarks.

"It must be quite the experience."

Jon blinked hard. He centered himself back in the present. At the skins of his own bed he needed to pull back to finally get in the damn thing.

"Certainly, there are no words to describe it." Placing one knee on the surface, Jon smiled. "Guess you'll have to try it to found out."

The shock was gratifying.

"Rhaegal is shy. He has a calmer temper that Drogon for sure. We could try to convince him to take you on a flight before marching south. "

" _Convince_  a dragon, he says." An incredulous laugh jumped in the air. "How exactly does that work in your world of madness?"

At finally dropping his head on the pillow, a satisfied moan went out of Jon's mouth. "Aren't you a master at adulation? I'm sure you'll think of something."

"Isn't he hurt, though?"

"With all due respect, Rhaegal would barely feel your weight on its back, my Lord."

"Jon Snow!" Tyrion screeched. "I knew underneath that sanctimonious face, lived a creature wearing long and sharp fangs!"

Jon surprised himself with his own snort.

"And enough of this  _m'Lord_ nonsense." Came another whine. "We know each other better than that."

It was a defense, Jon admitted. A way for Jon to get away from the heat seething across the room and the sweetness filling up his nostrils. Even after all these years, Tyrion smelled the  _same_. And even after all these years, the yearning inside Jon reached back from its core, finding compatibility and resonance between them. Tyrion was no longer the only Omega he had met, but he still was the only one Jon liked a little bit  _too much_.

"I blame it on the soberness making his way back to me."

Another pause. Heavier than before.

"I know how we can remedy such tragedy."

Of course. Jon closed his eyes, squeezing her eyelids. Of course Tyrion would opt for getting even more drunk. Only that way the younger Lannister got his courage. Jon felt infectious by the boldness.

"Tyrion." He teased.

The name floated around the four walls of the stoned bedroom.

"Tyrion." He repeated, his tone lowered to a soft growl.

 _-"Please don't do this._ " Dany's begging came back. Her phantom voice shook his entire skull, tearing down the walls. Setting everything on fire. -" _Nobody has to know._ "

"Aye. That's my name." Gold cut through the fire; liquid gold pouring from the Omega's lips straight to Jon's ear. "Don't wear it out,  _Jon_. "

"I dreamed of you." Jon closed his eyelids. He pretended to be alone, so the whisper ripped from him felt less rough. "Once. After coming back."

"By coming back, you mean…"

"When I woke up with seven stab wounds on my chest, and one in my heart. That's what I meant."

Tyrion went silent as a clam, then.

Jon continued.

"Upon coming back, my sigh wasn't working properly. I couldn't find the color of things. Just grey. Didn't recognize the white of the snow. Or the black of my brother's furs. Not even Ghost's eyes shined red. The sky was this… pale piece of parchment hanging over me. I kept my mouth shut, though. I didn't want to hear from the Red Woman I'd… come back wrong somehow. "

"Shit."

"A day. A whole bloody day I walked around in terror. Then, when I couldn't hold back sleep no more… I dreamed of you." A golden dream, yellow liquid dripping over the ice. "When I woke, I could see colors again."

Expecting another long period of stunned silence一Tyrion's soft snoring perhaps一he was surprised of what he got.

The sounds of the skins being thrown on the floor.

Curious, Jon rose on his elbows.

He found Tyrion padding on wool-covered feet in his direction, eyes wide open. Jon's gaze tracked him all the way to the bed, watching him pass the wooden chest and jumping around the boots Jon had kicked off early on.

Then, he just stopped, mere inches from Jon's covered legs.

"What did you dream about?" Tyrion whispered, holding onto the fur with short fingers. He continued to stare at Jon as if he was being gutted. "Tell me."

Jon held still. "Something that never happened."

Tyrion grimaced.

" _Remember_.  _This never happened_." The young Lion from his memories remarked, lips blue from the freezing cold of the Wall. " _It's just… it would be such a tragedy. Every man deserves to know the taste of a kiss. One that did not come from their mother. You didn't have even that_."

Above the wall, both walking along the iced edge of the Wall with most of his limbs numbed, such stupidity hadn't been considered such a bad idea.

The occurrence has never been discussed again, both men faithful to the established pact. Neither subsequently to their reunion on Dragonstone's bay, nor after all the hard, bloody and terrible events that had followed it. Tyrion had been a different man, no longer shining gold and full of flirty smirks.

It had been easier for Jon to be blinded by another kind of gem; a demanding woman who's strong will had filled him with hunger and desire.

Until now.

When he felt Tyrion's touch, Jon froze.

The Omega's right palm crossed the plain of Jon's abdomen. The grey nightgown was lifted slowly, continuing only when Jon gave permission with a tilt of his chin.

"Gods." Tyrion's reaction was not very dissimilar from Dany's, at seeing the scars. Both had the shock in common. "Do they still hurt?"

"No." As the fingers went up to his chest, Jon's torso descended back on the bed. "I don't feel anything."

"My sweet boy. You wear the scars on the outside, when most of us wear them on the inside. "

The light scratch over his nipples burned一whether this was intentional, or not. Jon hissed through clenched teeth. Desire was a revelation, then. Heat focused on his guts, slipping to his manhood like a new-born fever.

Suddenly, Tyrion's vulnerable position made him prey. Jon caught both of his wrists with his hands with a snarl. His gaze pinned the Lannister in place, though all Jon could see was the scars Tyrion wore himself.

The draw between them had always been natural.

 _This._ It was something else entirely.

Jon felt the confirmation run through him, letting the  _want_ flow through his body. This time, when the Alfa felt like staking a claim, Jon didn't stop it. He recalled Daenerys's kiss, the brief pleasure of her mouth against his, before reality had forced him to stop. It had felt like cutting his chest open一an never-healed open wound, indeed.

This time, Jon wasn't able to have the same control.

This time, when the Alfa expressed its hunger, Jon echoed it.

The sound Tyrion emitted would always be remembered by him. A compound of surprise and excitement at being lifted off the floor and thrown to bed in one swift movement. His passionate disbelief was laughable.

The explosion of their pheromones, not so much.

Panting, Tyrion shivered beneath him, just like Daenerys had, naked and bowed.

Then the Lion bared his claws. He began pulling at Jon's nightgown urgently. Jon followed in excitement, passing the piece of clothing over his head. He felt Tyrion's nimble hands in his pants, pulling at the laces. Jon laughed, not really knowing what to do with his own hands.

"Tear the damn leather off if you have to." Tyrion inserted his palm inside his groin as soon he had the opportunity. They both moaned at the contact.

"I would need…" Jon hissed at the exquisite feeling. "...for you let go first."

Tyrion, on the contrary, massaged his cock up and down with a vengeance. "I'm trying, believe me. My body refuses to obey, though… a cruel dilemma, really. "

Jon had to work with what he could, wrapping his arms around Tyrion to laid them in parallel over the bed, both on their sides. Their breeches were the most difficult to take care of. At some point Jon saw the Hand insignia fly across the bed, still inserted into the the black leather, followed by all the rest of the obstacles between their bodies.

Immerse at their physical desperation, it didn't take long for their mouths to seal together for the second time in their lives. This time Tyrion's lips were not frozen, and his tongue was an outstanding addition. There was nothing platonic this time. Jon groaned, free, releasing all his frustration一All the tension locked inside him since Sam had spoken to him in the crypts.

"Shit," Tyrion kissed his face, his chin, his nose一his grunts losing coherence while Jon fisted his cock, over and over. " _Jon_." The moan vibrated against the Alpha's neck.

Jon gently massaged the stiff member. Then his fingers traveled further, slipping down the source of natural moisture. Tyrion nipped at the corner of his mouth in retaliation. The Omega held on to Jon's shoulders, crying out when a finger pierced his center.

Jon did not stop.

Wet folds  _pressed_ around his two fingers; the Omega surrendered with a whimper and nothing else.

His fingers pierced the flesh easily, scissoring and exploring to see what made Tyrion twist the hardest and swear the loudest. Through it all, Jon never stopped kissing him, saliva running down their chins. It became another kind of battle, their bodies clashing. They behaved like the strangers they were to each other.

Using clever words was Tyrion's passion, but unlike him, Jon knew words didn't work quite well for him.

So he let his skills express his interest, fingers fucking in and out, stimulating the Omega's center until it spasmed into a premature climax. More lubrication run through his fingers. Tyrion clawed at his chest whilst riding Jon's hand until the dying end.

Approving, Jon grunted when the Lion's small hands moved down his abdomen, bypassing the scars to return to his cock一which has only gotten harder.

"Oh… to be so young again." Tyrion murmured against Jon's reddened cheek. "Wait. I haven't done this..." A muffled groan interrupted their next kiss. "...in a while."

"Have you forgotten how?"

Tyrion laughed. "Oh, the insolence." He retaliated with a harsh tug at the base of the Alfa's cock, teasing the area of his knot. Jon found that indeed the dwarf had not forgotten anything. "Let me breathe, boy. I refuse to take you like a flushing maid."

Feeling the first push, Jon resisted, just to get more fire out of the Omega. His mirth caused a stronger assault, and this time, Jon rolled over the feathered bed. His fingers unlinked from the soft cunt in the process.

Jon wiped the wetness over the furs, panting and  _breathing_ the same  _taste_ coursing through his palate.

"Ah. Now this is a sight I will always cherish. A Wolf at my mercy." Tyrion caressed Jon's chest softly, considering him for a moment. Then he came upon Jon, one of his legs stretching to surround the Alpha's lap and mount him. "Better than freezing over at the Edge of the World, is it not?" Jon's hands held the Omega's waist, aiding his balance. "No grumkins or snarks snooping in the shadows."

"Just us." Jon's gaze lingered on Tyrion's own scars, collected over the years. They remind him of the stories he still did not know.

Daenerys ached to return to his mind. Jon shook his face to warned her off.

Tyrion guided Jon's cock straight to his opening and fell, fire melting gold in his eyes. "Just us."

 

 

* * *

**[+] [+] [+]**

**Now.**

**King's Landing.**

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**TYRION I**

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* * *

 

 

Tyrion awoke to the sound of screams.

- _Not again_. The pain in the middle of his big head made it hard to think. - _Not so soon_.

Was he stuck reliving the same nightmare over and over again, as punishment by the Seven Gods? Tyrion grunted, blinking to reorient himself.

Rolling his body around until he was face up, he recognized the upper part of the tent. And the smell of horse manure.

Cries of soldiers grew more distinguishable to his ears, then. Tyrion's body lurched, and started to rise from the ground.

Just then, the tent's curtain opened. Arya Stark was a cold face appearing in front of him. "We have to go."

Tyrion did not even blink. "Where exactly?"

"Away." The girl was certainly well prepared for it, judging by the dark hooded robe hanging from her shoulders. Tyrion had the feeling then, that he'd lived all this before一this meeting with Sansa's caustic sister, barking orders at him. He tentatively accepted the girl's gloved hand. "Jon is losing."

Tyrion stood still. His fingers tightened around the girl's wrist.

The smell lingered. The smell of death.

The terror in the air was still distinguishable; thick as smoke.

It wasn't a nightmare stuck in his head, Tyrion realized. It was a damned  _repetition_.

He left the tent quickly, ironically pulling Lady Stark along with him.

Over their heads, dragons flew past them, one chasing after the other. Tyrion recognized them immediately.

By the looks and the sound of the carnage, Northerners were facing the Dothraki at the front of the Gods Gate. The sand of the battlefield was being painted red with the infantry's best efforts to resist.

Rhaegal threw sporadic waves of fire to gain more advantage in the field, but Drogon was running his own siege against him.

Against  _Jon_.

"We have to help him."

"Ser Davos can't waste archers." Arya pulled at his forearm, though less firm than the previous attempt. "And arrows don't work on dragons."

"What about the Scorpions? Were all destroyed? "

Arya seemed to consider it. Blood stained her neck, and her hair was messy. The Wolf girl had obviously faced her own frays in her return to the camp. "Jon made me promise…"

"Save me the martyrdom notions of that honorable fool." Tyrion hissed. "You got me out of that tower, girl, you better do something useful with me now. I have a plan." The girl bared her own teeth, snarling at the Dwarf. Tyrion, however, didn't give a shite about the little Alpha's territorial warnings. "We  _have_ to help your brother. Daenerys will burn him alive otherwise. "

He wasn't saying anything Arya Stark hadn't already summarized. The girl was too clever to pretend the contrary.

It was honor holding her back, then. Stupid honor that had get many Starks killed already. "Jon was willing to pay the price. He wanted us out of King's Landing before the counter-attack began."

"Which tells me Jon knows he won't be able to beat her but plans to die trying anyway." Tyrion couldn't stand the thought of it. Not after all the death he has seen already. "Jon isn't an experienced rider like the Queen. Worse yet, Drogo is stronger that Rhaegal. He cannot beat them alone… He'll need all the aid he can get."

A pained screech broke from the sky, the Dance of Dragons taking its toll.

Arya lifted the hood over her head. "What exactly is this plan of yours?"

"Queen Daenerys didn't burn all Scorpions atop the Gods Gate. I saw it with my own eyes. She destroyed the entrance, but didn't bother to burn the artillery on the walls."

In response, Arya ran in the opposite direction she had wanted to drag him in. Thanks the Gods.

Tyrion followed her, biting at her heels.

They were forced to go around the edge of the camp, away from the bay, and towards the entrance of King's Landing. Tyrion prepared himself along the way as well, pocketing a discarded pair of knives from the ground一easy to conceal and carry一and an old rag to cover his head with. The battle cries only grew stronger as Lion and Wolf chose to be part of the chaos.

They found shelter behind a sand dune, scanning the scene.

"It's funny. I do not recall walking to that tent on my own. Yet, there I was."

Without taking her eyes off the field, the Stark girl smirked. "You wouldn't shut up, M'Lord."

"So you knocked me out?"

"We would've been discovered in half a second if I hadn't. You kept crying out for your brother like a babe."

Tyrion's face burned under his beard.

He was the first to admit he had been in quite a delusional state after the destruction of the capital. After discovering Cersei's body in the ruins, his own mind had liked to add Jaime's everytime he had closed his eyes. The vision had haunted him, unconscious or not.

There was so much bile a man could throw up. Much less  _half_ of a man.

The Northerners and the Defenders of the Eyrie were holding on in the barren field, doing his best to outweigh the remaining Dothraki dogs Daenerys had unleash on them. Ser Davos was ordering the men to recede into the Kingswood to avoid being less of an open target. A good call.

Sadly, Tyrion noticed the numbers only suffered more by the minute. Daenerys kept raining fire on Jon's troops everytime she had the chance. Tyrion frowned at the lack of black helmets in the battle. - _Where in the Seven hells are the Unsullied?_

Beyond the slaughter, Tyrion finally saw the four still functional Scorpions atop the walls. He almost wept with the visual confirmation. He tugged at the Wolf girl's sleeve to let her know.

"We can go through the Mud Gate." Arya whispered.

"That's a long way from here." Rhaegal flew near them just in that moment. It exhaled a new path of fire to the front lines, allowing a barrier of fire to help the Northerners escape into the woods. Tyrion was surprised at how long Jon and the dragon were resisting from above. Perhaps he was being too pessimistic. "How pausable you reckon it would be to ask for a ride?"

Arya Stark had never looked more delighted at something coming out of a Lannister's mouth.

Tyrion swallowed. "I was jesting."

"Wouldn't hurt to try."

"Rhaegal could easily melt you, as it could help you. We both know  _now_ why the thing is fond of Jon, but we might be a different story."

"It's Jon's dragon." Stark's expression was a mix of wonder and stubbornness.

 _Jon's_   _dragon_. As if that held a greater meaning. Tyrion well remembered the old Songs about the gigantic creatures. But he also remembered their tragic demises.

He sighed. "We cannot risk being seen by Daenerys and become a target. Jon cannot afford the distraction."

Fortunately for her, Arya Stark had inherited the cold head Jon Snow lacked. "The hard way it is, then."

Tyrion nodded.

The hard way, was also going to prove to be the bloodiest one.

 

 

* * *

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**End of Part i.**

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* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: So. Tyrion finally rode a dragon! ( ͡ ° ͜ʖ ͡ °)
> 
> Also, I'm so sorry for the wait. Please consider that first I update the spanish version and then comes the translation of the new chapter. It's a liiiiitle time-consuming.


	3. ii. the death of love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To be fucked by an Alfa was never as romantic, as Old Septas make it out to be. That kind of affairs would often involved rawness, and the basest of instincts at play. Rarely sweetness had a place on that kind of rutting. To experience pleasure on an Alpha's cock, you had to learn to enjoy the pain that came along with it.
> 
> That had been the way of things for millennia. And Tyrion would've been content to leave it at that.
> 
> A drunken fuck.
> 
> Jon, of course, in all his inexisting wisdom, had to prove his assumptions wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline: This chapter starts in 8x04 "The Last of the Starks." After the feast, some things will change, though.
> 
> WARNINGS:  
> #1. I, by no means, consider myself to be an expert at military strategies. But hey, I tried my best. Hope it stills entertains you. Also, I have studied the maps of King's Landing, but what D&D gave us doesn't make sense. I ended up with a weird mash of the two canons.  
> #2. My version of Dorne in not based on the show, except for Myrcella's death and Ellaria Sand taking over Dorne. I'm taking elements from the books, but the story it's not going to be based on that canon either. Again, I'm taking liberties. Enjoy the ride.

**ii.**

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" _And_   _sometimes_

_duty_

_is the death of love_."

-Tyrion Lannister, Game of Thrones, 8x06 "The Iron Throne."

 

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**Before.**

**Winterfell.**

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**TYRION II**

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* * *

 

 

Tyrion awoke startled.

In front of him, Ghost wasn't making a sound. The beast just stared at him without blinking, its front legs over the foot of the bed. Tyrion sat up, scratching his head. A rat had definitely perished in his mouth. It felt just like it. His head was also threatening to split into four different parts.

He found himself alone.

Tyrion sighed.

When he breathed in, dense pheromones filled his lungs一 _Alphahoneycinnamonblood_. He choked and coughed.

Seven hells. That Wolf had  _really_ done it.

He kicked the furs off of his body, ready to get up in seek of milk of the poppy to alleviate his mortal headache.

"Could you at least turn your snot the other way? I assure you there is not much to see." Slipping out of the bed left him bare from the waist down, his small tunic reaching only to his knees. His small clothes had not survived the event一That much he could recall. Jon had ferociously tear them apart.

He crouched down to see under the feather bed for his jerkin and breaches. It was a challenge. Ghost, now snuggled near the fireplace, continue to silently criticize him, seemingly enjoying the scene before him. Damn animal.

"I see the ear is healing well. Too bad it will not grow back like the scales of dragons."

This time, the direwolf  _did_ growl.

Kneeling on the floor with a boot on his left hand and his breaches in the other, Tyrion smiled. "Ah. Jealous of flying lizards. A terrible misfortune. "

Once dressed一or close to it一Tyrion opened the door carefully, glancing both ways, before venturing into the hall. There was commotion of people waking up. Bodies wandering around, not that dissimilar from the undead they had just defeated. Tyrion hear cursing and giggling, and saw more than one girl sneak out of the rooms along the tower.

He was surprised to feel the direwolf following him out.

Perhaps it was the smell that kept it close. Tyrion knew well the mistrust Ghost had for strangers. He still remembered Jon's warnings at Castle Black, when Tyrion had wanted to pet its head. -" _If I wasn't here, he'd tear your hand off."_

He was not particularly hungry. He postponed the walk to the Great Hall to head to the Maesters' tower first. Ghost deserted him for an instance, only to reappear when Tyrion had obtained his treasure from the Maester, waiting for him outside the east tower. By then, he had worked an appetite.

The Great Hall was semi-desert on arrival. Only the brave were awake.

Tyrion recognized a mop of strawy white-blonde hair and walked towards it. He was amused by what he found; a Knight harshly judging her bowl with oatmeal.

"Ser Brienne. Good morning."

"Lord Tyrion." She didn't appear particularly excited to have company. Tyrion snorted, recognizing a hangover when it was presented in front of him.

"This will help with the pain. Among other things." In the most subtle way that he could, Tyrion slipped the small leather pouch in the woman's direction. "We can share half of it. Consider it my apology for my big mouth last night. We can ask for one of the kitchen maids to take care of the infusion. I fear the preparation is not one of my specialties. "

Brienne of Tarth was no fool. Her eyes carefully analyzed the contents, traveling from Tyrion to the pouch and back again. She nodded as final verdict.

"Apology accepted."

Tyrion rubbed his hands. "Excellent. Let's get some breakfast. A real one. Please stop torturing yourself with that oatmeal. Not even direwolves find it enticing."

"I firmly believe that I could not stomach anything else right now, my Lord."

Answering his hand gesture, one of the kitchen maids approached them, wiping her hands on her cloth. "Nonsense. How can you refuse freshly made bread slices with butter and well roasted bacon on top?" Tyrion smiled at the girl, making clear that the order was for her ears. "Bring two plates, my dear. Also," He passed the pouch to the maid's open palm. "two infusions of Moon tea. Bring back the leftovers." He gave her two golden coins to motivate her to come back fast.

Brienne watched the exchange with her usual apprehensiveness. Tyrion smiled sweetly at her to placate her. It didn't work.

"So." Tyrion interlaced his hands over his stomach. "That was a rather joyful night, wasn't it?"

The reddish tone was instantaneous in Brienne's broad cheeks.

The woman's bright blue eyes were rather fascinating too. Innocence mixed with an old soul. Ser Brienne was young, yes, but the things she had witnessed and survived already… Tyrion admired her for her courage. For still wanting to venture into the prairies of Lannister Lions. Brienne of Tarth wore her kiss-swollen lips with head held high.

"Did you rest well?"

"I would love to say so, my Lord." The woman finally put aside the bowl of oatmeal. As previously predicted, not even Ghost bothered to sniff the contents. "Unfortunately your brother's snores made me realized that I would've had better luck sleeping in the barracks to feel fully rested."

Tyrion tried to hold back the laugh. Truly. "Oh please, tell him that to his face in my presence. I beg you! He has always denied it!"

Brienne allowed her mouth to curve in something close to a smile.

Tyrion appreciated the woman's openness. He felt relief, thinking of everything that had been denied to his brother for Cersei's benefit. For the first time in his miserable existence, Jaime shouldn't be a dirty secret.

The maid returned with two cups of Moon tea first. Tyrion wrapped his hands like Ser Brienne around the cup's warmth. The first sip was always the worst. Tyrion blew at the steam, trying to drag the moment.

When the kitchen maid came back, she brought with her two metal plates with bacon and fluffy slices of bread. The butter was still soft and greasy, just as Tyrion preferred.

He salivated at the smell. He gestured at his companion with his fork, before breaking fast. "After you, my Lady."

The woman lifted her fork. She poked at the bacon but made no further advance. A real shame.

"Don't play with your food." Jaime caused them both tremendous shock at his sudden appearance. His face peaked out of the Beta's shoulder, smirking. "Better yet, share it with the less fortunate."

"You're right, Ser. I'll save it for Podrick." She slid the plate in opposite direction of his brother's expectant hand, earning a pout from the man.

"Don't be absurd. The bacon will harden if you let it cool for too long. "

"Exactly! And the butter!" Tyrion gasped. "Think of the butter, Ser! It will melt away by the time Podrick shows up."

"If he drags his arse out of bed at all." Jaime intersected, settling across the wooden bench, to fully devote himself to Ser Brienne's skepticism. "Gods know at his age I wouldn't have. Not if he truly desires future heirs down the road."

- _Here we go. Another litany about frozen balls._  Tyrion snorted, munching at his strips of beacon happily.  _Crunch-crunch-crunch_.

He could hardly believe his good fortune. An  _excellent_ fuck, followed by a  _delicious_ breakfast.

This kind of pleasures… It's been a long a time since Tyrion had considered himself worthy of it all.

The blond Beta did not relent to his brother's insistence. Quite the opposite. "Order your own, Ser." After rolling her eyes, she took the first sip of Moon tea. She didn't appear very impressed with the taste.

Defeated, Jaime exchanged glances with Tyrion from across the table. It wasn't long before the man was twisting his brow for different reasons. Tyrion swallowed the bacon too fast, almost choking in the process. "Ser Brienne was…" He coughed slightly to help the pig move more smoothly down his throat. "Ser Brienne was just telling me the funniest story-"

Jaime raised an eyebrow. "Brienne?"

"Aye, aye. To be more specific一"

"Why do you sound surprised? I can be able to express humor with people that inspire it from me. "

"Whilst sober?" His brother stretched his one good hand towards the Lady's broad right shoulder. They soon learned one of the leather straps was wrongly crossed and thus the intervention. "So far I haven't had the privilege of seeing it."

Ser Brienne allowed Jaime's touch, peering at him under her long white eyelashes. "Maybe you don't inspire it enough."

Jaime grinned. "Is that a challenge, wench?"

"To make me experience less frustrating moments involving you? You are more than welcome to remedy that, Ser."

"I don't know." Jaime produced a meditative sound. "I was under the impression we already had the opportunity… to vent our frustrations quite well."

"I'm  _eating_." Tyrion muttered.

Jaime's graying bangs moved up with mirth. "Cover your ears, then."

The kitchen maid, without being called, brought a metal plate with the same contents to Jaime, earning a gallant expression of gratitude. The maid was incensed by the charm, and mumbled to herself all the way back to the kitchens.

Tyrion rolled his eyes at the whole spectacle.

"I wouldn't expected to see you up so early, dear brother." Not bothering with the fork, Jaime used his fingers to take the bacon into his mouth. "I dare say you look rejuvenated. Mm. You didn't shave. So that cannot be the reason. "

Cursed man. Tyrion wiped his mouth with the napkin. "Effects of continuous survival against impossible terrors. It has forced me to realize what you can lose in a blink of an eye."

"Like the birds singing?" His brother mocked.

From the corner of his eye, Tyrion observed Ghost lifting its head from its resting position, followed by whining. A tell of Commander Snow approaching the Great Hall. "More like a discovery of unattainable things, now finally within your grasp."

In front of him, his brother stopped chewing and Lady Brienne seemed to cease breathing, her hands still around the cup of tea.

A few meters away from them, Jon entered.

He was accompanied by his younger sister, Arya. Ghost ran to their side immediately, and the girl Stark was the first to pet its head. Jon was smiling. A rare occurrence when ale wasn't involved.

Under the table, Jaime's boot shook the bench where Tyrion was sitting on. It was enough for Tyrion's head to twist back to his brother.

He found a peculiar expression on his face. Uncertainty. A little bit of fear.

Tyrion cleared his throat.

The few souls who were breaking their fast with them tried to get up to greet their Lord and Lady of Winterfell. Jon was quick to order them back down, still unable to accept the recognition of something so simple.

They settled down on the main table, still engage in conversation. Jon's attention was never drawn to their table.

"Ser Brienne. You're being summoned." A maid in the service of Lady Sansa appeared next to Brienne of Tarth with a scroll in her gloved hand. It served to halt Tyrion's ridiculous gawking. "Lady Sansa requires your presence in her solar."

"Does Lady Sansa ever sleeps, I wonder?"

With the message in his hands, Ser Brienne threw his brother a murky look to shut him out. "Please tell her I'll be there right away."

"You have barely touched your food."

Wordlessly, Brienne yielded to Jaime the meal previously reserved for her squire. A communication consisting on intense stares unfolded between the two, and Tyrion turned his own eyes away, suddenly feeling as an invader.

"Winterfell's reconstructions requires our presence at the earliest hour to take advantage of all daylight at our disposal." Pathetic excuse, but functional. Ser Brienne got up from the bench, tucking her furs around her monumental body. "Lord Tyrion, enjoy the rest of your breakfast."

Tyrion tried to smile. It felt more like a grimace. "Please let Lady Sansa know that any support in her planning that she may need, we are at her disposal."

Brienne of Tarth nodded, accepting the offer with her usual nobility. She left uneasy, though. Tyrion knew who to blame for that.

"You're acting like a child desperate for attention."

Jaime lifted his gaze from both untouched meals. His face reflected quite the storm. "At least I don't reek of wet dog after it had rolled me around the yard all night."

Tyrion gasped at the low blow, and even Jaime seemed to recognize his harshness, a moment too late.

"Thanks the Seven, any matter involving any of my smells is not of your concern." Satiated from breakfast, the Omega took the last sip of the cursed tea and readied himself to get up.

"It  _is_ , if my concern is justified." Jaime stopped him with his hand on his forearm. "Tyrion. After what we survived, it would be a pity to lose your head for something as stupid as getting the Dragon Queen's toys dirty. "

"Keep your voice down." Tyrion whispered. "There is nothing to worry about, because  _nothing_ has happened. Neither this conversation, or whatever notions you're assuming in your head. "

It was a curse the two knew each other so well. Both were so transparent in each other's eyes, their strengths and weaknesses clear as the summer sky.

Tyrion pulled his forearm free and rose from the bench. He intended to flee to his room to prepare the hottest bath possible and get rid of all trace of Jon Snow.

He chose one of the secondary exits, away from the vicinity of the King of the North. Cold wind slapped his face once again when he needed it the most.

Snow-crunching sounds behind him caused him to roll his eyes.

"Do not misunderstand me. I admire your desire to act as overprotective brother, but I think we're already too old for this kind of gestures."

Jaime fortunately remained quiet during the walk to the tower where his little brother was hosted. They stopped at the bottom of the stone steps, face to face, and still freezing down to his balls.

"I've seen that look before, little brother." Jaime shared the strange line with a gentle grip on Tyrion's shoulder. "Be careful."

Some farewell.

Tyrion climbed the stairs weary, his legs getting numb with every stone step. When one of the maids finally readied his hot bath, Tyrion's entire body seemed to sigh in pleasure once he got in.

Alone, Tyrion mapped his bare skin.

He revived memories, going over each mark with his fingertips.

Tyrion considered them a torment. The kisses. The caresses. Jon's voice, hoarse, snarling  _Faster_ at his earlobe while the Omega rode him into oblivion. Tyrion still felt his cunt swollen with the savage treatment he had received.

Tyrion had loved it all. The discomfort. The clash between their bodies一that kind of battles were always his forte.

To be fucked by an Alfa was never as romantic, as Old Septas make it out to be. That kind of affairs would often involved rawness, and the basest of instincts at play. Rarely sweetness had a place on that kind of rutting. To experience pleasure on an Alpha's cock, you had to learn to enjoy the pain that came along with it.

That had been the way of things for millennia. And Tyrion would've been content to leave it at that.

A drunken fuck.

Jon, of course, in all his inexisting wisdom, had to prove his assumptions wrong.

Tyrion splashed water out of the tub with the strength of his washing.

Fuck him.

Fuck Jon Snow.

Fuck his unusual gentle restrain. Fuck his ridiculous bottomless black eyes. Fuck the way he had made Tyrion shiver down to his every pore, pulling from his wet center not one, but three culminations worthy of sobbing into his pillow like a whore on his first day of work.

Jaime had been right.

_-"I've seen that look before."_

Tyrion had  _felt_ this way before.

It hadn't led him to any good path.

By order of his Queen, Tyrion was forced to conclude his bath earlier than planned. He dressed in rushed manner, and no one could blame him for not paying attention to the people he passed on the hallways.

The Council was already in session when he arrived.

He walked straight to the fire, the voices of Varys and Daenerys locked in debate. Never a good sign.

Between them, Jon Snow looked quite trapped. Upon seeing him, his relief was discernible.

"Lord Tyrion. You took your time."

Tyrion did not bother with an apology. "What did I miss?"

Varys took the initiative. "Dorne has declared neutrality in the Great War. It has retained its ships in the narrow sea, as well as any representation of support for our Queen. At least until their new terms of negotiating are accepted. "

Stunned, Tyrion felt his eyes widen. "Something must've happened for Dorne to change its mind."

Indeed, Varys nodded. "It appears rumors of the death of Prince Oberyn Martell have been highly exaggerated. He has taken his brother's place in Sunspear. "

"Shit." Tyrion made two fists out of his hands. "Oberyn Martell. The man hates the Lannisters. He must know one of them serves as the Queen's hand. My father's actions cost him a sister, and a Half-man like me has cost him the life of his young nephew. He would never help us."

"Quite the contrary." To his surprise, Daenerys looked  _entertaining_. "As Lord Varys has mentioned, Prince Oberyn has sent his terms to forge a new alliance."

"Which are?"

Daenerys pointed her chin towards Jon, who became a victim of some dire facial contortions.

"The Prince of Dorne proposed a marriage alliance."

Tyrion began to smile.

"With the King of the North, apparently."

Tyrion was left gaping.

At his reaction Daenerys continued. "Martell refuses to join in marriage with a Targaryen after what happened to his sister at the result of my brother's actions. But he has expressed an interest in the North." The woman passed the parchment to her Hand for further examination. "He says he has heard of the heroic deeds of Jon Snow. A brave man. The Bastard that rose as King." The Queen's tone indicated the bitter taste Prince Oberyn's appreciation left in her mouth, considering the great good she had done herself from Meereen to Winterfell.

Tyrion felt an incredible empathy for her. He cleared his throat. "Are we accepting the terms?"

"Have you gone mad?" Jon Snow's growl echoed throughout the meeting room.

"It is a sensible proposal."

"I am not interested!"

"Even if it costs me certain victory against Cersei?" Daenerys intercepted, sharp and direct. "We need Dorne's support. Their resources are key."

Tyrion watched Jon closely. Trapped in the middle of Daenerys and Varys, Tyrion feared steam would soon puff out of the man's ears and nose. "Let's not lose our heads yet. We are merely looking at the possibilities we have at hand. Considering options. Jon, please don't blind yourself into absolutes until we have examined the pros and cons. "

Jon did exactly the opposite. "I won't accept it." He glanced around the Council with utter disdain.

Tyrion sighed. Daenerys growled under her breath.

Varys turned away from the War board, exasperated. If the man had hair, Tyrion knew he would be pulling it out from the roots.

"Would it really be so bad, Your Grace? For years, Oberyn Martell has been regarded one of the most attractive Omegas in all of Westeros. Lord Tywin himself considered joining houses using Queen Cersei and the young Prince, way before Robert's Rebellion."

Jon crouched over the board. Somber, he stared at the map without really seeing it.

"Let us consider possible complications in accepting this proposal, if it is the matter of Prince Oberyn's gender that is upsetting you一"

"It's not that kind of complication." Jon interrupted Varys at once.

The reply caused more than one eyebrow to rise. Tyrion was mindful of the Queen's reaction一brief surprise, only to fade quickly into blankness.

"So, if it's not a matter of gender or status… What  _is_ the real problem?"

Jon shot the adviser a look that at some point had stroke down best opponents to the ground.

"Notions of misplaced fealty or fear of a love lost, perhaps?"

Considering the state of past affairs, Lord Varys was right to direct the query in both Daenerys and Jon's way. Tyrion had expected it.

Even when Jon turned towards him, to seek guidance, Tyrion didn't consider it an extraordinary thing to expect. It was well known Jon respected his opinion.

It still didn't stop the panic flaring in Tyrion for half a minute. - _Don't be an idiot_. He implored, voiceless, wide eyes staring up at Jon's conflicted expression. - _Do_ not  _be an idiot, please_.

Jon sighed.

"I'm familiar with the mistake that cost my brother Robb the war, Lord Varys. What he did was impulsive, resulting in being betrayed by Walder Frey. This is precisely why I'm not eager for a repetition because we feel desperate. I do not know Oberyn Martell, much less trust him… Think about it. Regardless if we succeed or fail, we all know Dorne that hasn't been conquered in over a thousand years. The Prince of Dorne has no need to get involved in the Great War against Cersei. Not if he truly wishes to keep his people safe. Why sent this proposal to someone who has sworn his loyalty to Daenerys Targaryen, the same person he  _refuses_ to help in the first place? This is a trap."

Tyrion pursued his lips. All valid points.

The Red Viper was known to be half mad. One could say Tyrion had taste of it from Princess Arianne at her attendance to Joffrey's wedding, ages ago. The woman had enjoyed immensely his trial proceedings and the subsequently bloodbath that had followed. Quentyn's death could hang over Tyrion's head, but her goading at having his young brother volunteer as champion had been all her doing.

At least her head had rolled at Ellaria Sand's hand. That misfortune couldn't be blamed on him.

Daenerys, restless, walked around the room. It was beginning to become a familiar sight. His Queen was losing all patience when it came to Cersei.

"It's a risk, Your Grace." Jon insisted.

"You're right, it is." Daenerys stopped right in front of him. Her left hand reached out to grab one of the pieces that had represented Ellaria's ships. "But it's a risk I'm willing to take."

Tyrion swallowed.

The piece of wood was viciously thrown across the board. "Are  _you_?"

 

 

* * *

 

**[+] [+] [+]**

**Now.**

**King's Landing.**

**[+] [+] [+]**

**JON III**

**[+] [+] [+]**

 

* * *

 

 

Dodge. Dracarys. Sōvegon.

Dodge. Dracarys. Sōvegon.

Dodge. Dracarys一

"ARRH!" Jon temporarily lost control when Rhaegal was hit from the side. The collision made them spin, leaving Rhaegal's stomach and chest exposed. Drogon tried to get their claws in again, and succeeded in scratching its brother's thigh.

To get rid of Drogon, Rhaegal defended itself with its tail一an impressed trick. The series of lashes brought out results, hindering Drogo's eyesight temporarily.

Soon, they vanished from their trail.

Rhaegal, affected by the injuries, started to swerve inconsistently in the air.

Jon growled as he felt his hands slip down the scales. They were wet with blood. Jon wasn't certain who's exactly, his or the creature's. Dragons bled crimson-red just like men. He clung with every part of his being. He begged Rhaegal to do the same.

Rhaegal flew low, near the sea, the tips of its wings touching the water's surface.

He eventually rose, however. Stubborn and persistent.

Jon whispered grateful nonsense at its back, rejoining at the center of it with more flexibility than Jon thought himself possible.

Recovered, they flew over Blackwater Bay.

Jon had the opportunity to analyze the battlefield.

His people were retreating to the Kingswoods, just as Jon had hoped Davos would order them. The more time they stayed away from the open fields, more difficult it would be for Daenerys to eliminate them in a single shot of fire.

The Dothraki had been dragged to the ground by the infantry, and were forced to fight the Northerners at close range. They weren't dying as quickly as they should; but they weren't creating the bloodbath Dothraki they were prone to.

Without the Unsullied, Dany was incapable of a second overwhelming victory. At least of this, Jon was certain.

They dived straight north; to his people.

"Dracarys!" The command hurt his hoarse throat. Rhaegal obeyed. Fire scorched another row of Dothrakis on the west side, cutting them off and preventing them from following the ranks of the Vale to the forest一

一The second impact against them left side stole his breath.

His gaze locked on Daenerys, both beasts now tangling their necks, fighting for dominance.

Rhaegal danced in continuous circles, just as he had done so against Viserion, seeking escape.

Drogon's jaws went straight after Jon, wanting to yank him off. Everything that followed happened in a chaotic sequence of maneuvers that made it difficult to process. Jon heard Rhaegal's roaring and whining, but couldn't do a damn thing. Its right flank was covered in claw marks in minutes, Drogon never giving rest to its vicious attack.

Drogon would kill its brother. Jon clenched his fists at the certainty. Drogon would kill  _them_ both.

"RHEAGAL, KELIGON!"

Jon gritted his teeth.

He looked straight into Dany, wind gusts hitting their faces.

On the next charge against him, Jon was ready. He rammed his dagger directly on the scales around the beast's eye.

Drogon groaned.

It shook its head, hitting Rhaegal in equal measure. Jon held on and yelled at Rhaegal to fly away, needing distance. Daenerys screamed at her child一at  _both_ of her children.

Jon wasn't able to measure the exact damage he had caused around Drogon's eyesight but at least he had produced enough discomfort for Daenerys to struggle keeping the animal at bay; fluttering around the sky in messy twirls.

Rhaegal released a sharp whine, his wings flexing back and forth to keep them suspended.

This time, the crash was brutal.

Jon's vision went black.

At once, he lost all sense of orientation.

Indeterminate time later, the pain forced him awake.

Jon coughed sand from his mouth. Face up, his hands explored the place of his landing. He was bleeding from his head. His right leg hurt.

Jon moaned something incomprehensible. A call.

Rhaegal replied, laid over a bed of dragged stones near the bay. Jon crawled towards him一 _himhimhim_ 一standing up despite the pain in his leg. Seeing this, Rhaegal mimicked him, stretching his limbs at his direction. The dragon's thigh was bleeding along with the tearing at his chest.

Yards away, Drogon landed. The ground shook with the impact.

"No." Jon growled, stumbling over the sand. He stood up right back, rushing toward the creature. It didn't seem fair. To Rhaegal to suffer the consequences of Jon's actions. He felt unworthy of the creature's fealty.

"Sōvegon!" Jon shouted, stumbling in his desperation. "RHAEGAL, SŌVEGON!"

Rhaegal roared like a lion. He stood up on its two hind legs and spread his wings wide. A warning to Drogon to stay back.

He did not flee as Jon had commanded. - _Stupid beast._

Perceiving Daenerys' approach with Drogon, Jon made the last leap in Rhaegal's direction. He crawled until he was within reaching distance of his torso. Then he deliberately turned his body around, facing what was coming.

He waited.

On top of his son, Daenerys's face was a mess. A fine sheet of wetness shined when the sunlight hit her features. Drogo had its jaws open slightly open, growling.

It was facing Viserion all over again.

Jon yelled at them with all his strength. An  _impetus_ came from his gut, unknown even to himself. His tired body was shaking. His throat was swollen up. Blood covered half of his face. A dam inside the Alpha burst open, and ran through his blood. A powerful sense of  _challenge_.

Daenerys pressed her eyes closed.

Jon extended his arms, standing in front of Rhaegal.

When she opened her eyes back again, Dany looked indecisive. Full of grief. For a moment, Jon recognized a piece of the woman he had believed lost to him.

A mother rather than a Queen.

Rhaegal poised himself for imminent attack behind Jon. He kept whining at his brother for mercy.

Drogon reciprocal roar indicated a similar bereavement under the scales. Jon wondered just how tick their bond as brothers was. Just how far Drogon could recognize between friend, foe and family.

"Go ahead." Jon spit blood to the ground, snarling directly at Daenerys. "What are you waiting for?!"

The Targaryen's expression twisted into despair. The horror of her actions seemed to hit her all at once. Jon saw everything pour out of her, breaking apart in front of him. The realization. The fall of her idealism.

Guilt began to sink into her. Maybe even remorse.

Jon couldn't evoke empathy on her behalf. He only felt pain and emptiness.

"Drogon." Daenerys' command was a fragile thing. "Draca一"

A wave of sand hit Jon in the face, stinging his eyes.

He did not find out the cause until he shook his face and recognized a spear stuck in the sand a couple of yards from Rhaegal. Stunned, Jon instinctively covered his head, hearing more similar impacts begin to rain around them. He slid under one of Rhaegal's wings for protection.

Drogon reduced the landed spears to ashes. Jon felt the heat of the flames.

The dragon sounded and looked totally enraged. Daenerys tried to reign him in with the Valyrian commands she had trained him with, but something seemed to break free inside the beast.

Another gust of wild wind warned Jon of their retreat.

Jon squinted his eyes at the point where the spears had come from, cleaning blood from his face to do so. It was too far to see clearly but the commotion at the Gods's Gate was the direction Drogon was flying at.

Climbing back to Rhaegal was complete agony.

Just knowing that the opposite option would mean certain death一not for him but for his people一it was what pushed him through. His companion, equally wounded, stretched his wings in preparation, gathering momentum to take off the ground.

Within minutes, they were back in the sky.

He spotted Daenerys again一going after the Scorpions at the Gates. Jon coughed blood, his head spinning abnormally, as he made an effort to focus his gaze on the horizon.

Jon pressed Rhaegal on. - _Go after her_.

It was something peculiar. Ceasing to feel afraid. Knowing exactly what your duty dictated.

_-Get closer. Above her. Get closer._

Northmen were running atop the wall using the Scorpions, and to his surprise, a handful of the Lannister soldiers Greyworm hadn't yet killed. Brave men determined to take down Drogon. Their actions sparked some life back to Jon. Hope. Their efforts compelled him to keep going.

_-"It's horrible thing that I'm asking."_

Rhaegal showed incredible strength in carrying out his last wish. He flew over his brother in parallel, creating a shadow over rider and creature.

_-"But it's also the right thing."_

Jon let go of Rhaegal's spine, and started to climb to his neck. Over the leathered shoulder, Jon peeked down.

He didn't allowed himself to think twice about it. As Daenerys looked up, feeling his presence, and Jon knew it was the last chance.

He jumped.

He clung to the small body as he made contact, and although Daenerys struggled, Jon's body weight, was an inevitable force.

Dragging her along, they both fell down.

 

 

* * *

**[+] [+] [+]**

**End of Part II.**

**[+] [+] [+]**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NoA: Writing this chapter was a complete mindfuck.
> 
> You shouldn't feel so attached to two dragons made with CGI, but I do. Forcing them to hurt each other sucked. Alas, dragons are dragons. Drogon was entitled to feel conflict about it, but in the end, we know he's loyal to his mother.
> 
> Talking about happier things... OBERYN FUCKING MARTELL IS IN THE HOUSE. As you could see, I replaced his S4 storyline with Princess Arianne Martell (Doran's daughter). Who's like the female version him, anyways.
> 
> I did warn about the crack and the AU!


	4. iii didn't see it coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime hoped it was temporary.
> 
> The tightness closing around his ribs, making him breath harder. The struggle in his loins, running hot and cold, with no in-between. This dryness in the back of his throat, making his words harsher that intended.
> 
> Jaime expected all to be temporary, because he was getting truly unnerved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING:
> 
> #3. We'll remain in the Pre-The Bells timeline a little more in this chapter and in the next, for one simple reason: CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT.

**iii.**

**[+] [+] [+]**

" _I didn't see it coming._

_But I never really had much faith_

_In the universe's magic (Magic), oh, no_

_Till it pulled us to that time and place_ "

-Bring me the horizon, "Mothertongue."

**[+] [+] [+]**

**Before.**

**Winterfell.**

**[+] [+] [+]**

**JAIME I**

**[+] + [+]**

* * *

 

 

Jaime hoped it was temporary.

The  _tightness_ closing around his ribs, making him breath harder. The struggle in his loins, running hot and cold, with no in-between. This dryness in the back of his throat, making his words harsher that intended.

Jaime expected all to be temporary, because he was getting truly unnerved.

He longed for the numbness that usually propelled him to endure Winterfell's overall disdain towards him. He was just fine not giving a whore's tit about what they reckon of him. He had a routine and it helped him. From emptying his pot full of urine at the mornings, carrying his dirty clothes to the cleaning maids, dragging potatoes sacks inside the kitchens, and sparring with the youngsters at the late afternoons.

It wasn't much.

Jaime was not a trusted advisor like his brother. He didn't have Sansa Stark's confidence to offer strategic points at Council meetings. Much less could he help in reconstructions with just one damn hand. But at least, he could drag sacks of rice, wheat, and beans from the loading wagons to the castle so the kitchen maids wouldn't break their small backs in two whilst trying.

It wasn't much. But Jaime would have lost his sanity otherwise.

Later at the evening, whilst he rested against the wall of the courtyard after sparring with Podrick, relief claimed him at finally spotting Ser Brienne's white horse cross the northern gates.

He saw her riding the animal in the direction of the stables, and Jaime hastened his pace to reach her.

"Did you find some snarks along the way? Did it grant you three wishes, as the old Septas say to scare us in their tales?"

Now dismounting, Brienne turned to the stable's entrance with her usual wide blue eyes. "If that would be so, your mouth would let out more harmonious sounds every time we meet, Ser."

 _-Yes._  Jaime grinned. - _This was what I had been waiting for_. "I thought you loved the sounds that came out of my mouth."

Ah. The redness of her face. The woman shook her head, taking care to remove her leather gloves. Unlike Jaime's, they felt sweaty and hot. He discovered it by feeling them around his face as Brienne found another way to silence him.

They kissed in the middle of the barn; exposed to witnesses, surrounded by the smell of manure.

The armor was an obstacle in his desire to haul Brienne closer to him. His golden hand clumsily hit the steel when he tried.

 _Tlink-tlink-tlink,_ the steel seemed to mock him _._

He moaned in frustration, then moaned again for better reasons, the same hunger boiling him finding its match. Brienne's lips were salty on his, and Jaime wanted to sweeten them with his own breath.

"I have to give my report to Commander Snow." Brienne murmured, parting her face from his and lowering her chin towards him. Jaime stood up on tiptoes to pull at her neck for a second kiss.

He knew Brienne could stop him easily, but her reluctance spoke more than words. They kissed again for a longer spell. The tenure and softness intertwined with the unknown. A mess of sensations Jaime was just beginning to get used to.

The tightness around his ribs got  _looser_. His breath went in and out,  _smoother_.

Three days without touching her. Three days of enduring a boring wait for her return. All because Lady Sansa had sent Brienne to patrol the southern perimeter without allowing Jaime to accompany her party of scouts.

Jaime was pushed by the chest to create distance, pulling a resigned sigh from him. "Will it take long?"

Brienne started walking out of the barn, putting her gloves back on. Jaime didn't lose sight of the gesture. Another rarity that had become routine一Her need for skin-to-skin contact.

"Most likely. You shouldn't wait for me."

Jaime rolled his eyes, following her across the patio. In the distance, Podrick continued training the young litter of squires. He didn't wave at Brienne, knowing she wouldn't approve of any distractions during training from his part, but he noticed them passing near them. She really had taught him well.

"Now it turns out that reporting acres of snow needs a session with the High Council?"

Brienne cut him off by making a sudden stop. Jaime almost hit his nose against the hard armor of her back.

"I found frozen corpses." Brienne let out in one breath. "A lot of them. Near Highpoint."

Jaime swallowed. "How many?"

"Between four hundred or more, if you continue north. We will need to burn them. I found no signs of life in the villages near Whitehill House. Which means一"

"They were also invaded by the Dead."

"The rest of the patrollers are on the way. I went ahead to notify the Council."

In Jaime's opinion, they should let the ravens take care of the matter, but of course Jon Snow would want to honor their neighboring Houses.

"You should take a bath and fill your stomach with some stew first." Jaime lifted his chin defiantly. "I doubt Lady Sansa would appreciate your three-days foul smell."

The insult seemed to fly over her head, showing how exhausted she had to be. Deliberately she continued her walk to the Great Hall. "I can take a bath later."

Jaime sighed. "It would be easier for everyone to use the dragons to incinerate the bodies. Loading them and burning them on our own will take time. Time I doubt the Northerners have at their disposal when they are preparing to march south. "

Brienne knew it as well as Jaime. She looked thoughtful, almost gritting her teeth. "Do you think the Queen would aid Lady Sansa in this mission?"

"Maybe. If Jon Snow were the one who ask for it. "

Both shared a doubtful look, then.

"You have not been present in the last three sessions. His relationship with the Queen is tense. "

"Then I feel fortunate to not be in the middle of it." Jaime murmured, as they entered the Great Hall. "I'll prepare my horse, at any case."

That caused their walk together to come to another stop. "Jaime." Brienne looked surprised. Then, shy. "You don't have to come."

"I don't care about the iditioc orders of not including me in the patrols. If you're going back out there, I'm  _coming_ with you. Go to her. In the meantime I can recruit men to build the pyres while you try to not fall on your face in front of the wolf lady. Does it sound like a decent deal?"

Grudgingly, Brienne nodded.

The shadows of the hall seemed to emphasized the worst of her features. Jaime found easily the two gray spots under the woman's eyes, showing the poorness of her rest for the last three days. He inspected the largeness of her nose and the abnormal width of her shoulders, exaggerated by the armor.

- _No matter. As beastly as she can look_ … Jaime swallowed hard. - _My desire doesn't squelch any less as when she wields Oathkeeper._

He longed to have her at that moment. Fuck reporting to the fucking Starks. After three miserable days in this damned place without good company, Jaime just wanted to fuck her against the stone, bringing warm to their bodies with hurried kisses and hard fumblings.

They didn't even have to undress, Jaime only longed to be  _inside_ her; to feel her passion surrounding him.

Instead of that, they mumbled an awkward farewell. Jaime let Ser Brienne go, watching her disappear in the hallway.

As soon as she was out of sight, Jaime felt the uncertainty return, buzzing beneath his skin.

He busied himself by doing what he had promised. He recruited the same men who had helped with the construction of the pyres after the Battle. Some followed him, others did not. Mostly the same men who still spit at his feet. Fortunately, it was during one of these recruiting efforts, asking the farmers for dry hay, that he was overheard by Lord Gendry. From there on, the boy became a quick ally in supporting his efforts.

"Look to you. Initiative suits you, brother."

Jaime looked behind his back, near the blacksmiths' boilers. Tyrion was observing the scene with a quite smile.

Smirking, Jaime walked in his direction.

"I thought you'd be in session."

Tyrion frowned at him, confused. He sit down on an empty carriage used for carrying potatoes sacks. "The Queen is in her chambers with no desire to be bothered, as I recall. What session do you mean?"

Jaime shared the report that Brienne had brought from Highpoint. Tyrion seemed immediately in conflict.

"I'm afraid Drogon and Rhaegal have not fully recovered from their injuries yet. Queen Daenerys has preferred to let them gather all their strength in preparation for the flight south. "

Jaime sighed. "I suspect Lady Stark would rather load the corpses herself, than ask for her assistance, anyway."

"Don't say such nonsense out loud." Tyrion hissed through his teeth, looking around apprehensively. "Of course Daenerys will help her allies. As long as it's a reasonable request. Her dragons may not be an option, but I'm sure Greyworm would lend a decent number of soldiers for the cause."

Jaime rolled his eyes. "The same man who'd rather see my head on a spear?"

"To be fair, he looks at everyone with that specific desire. It's part of his charm." Tyrion rubbed his beard. Jaime could  _hear_ him thinking. "Tell me how many men you need and I will consult with the Queen."

"I'm not the right person to determined that. And don't you dare bring my name up to the Dragon girl without having Lady Sansa's approval first. The last thing I need is to end up in the middle of their quarrels." Little did Tyrion know. That what Jaime contributed to the Starks' benefit had one purpose only, and that purpose involved Brienne of Tarth.

He didn't seek to provoke complains from Lady Sansa if he could help it, about possible signs of laziness. Brienne had vouched for him, and Jaime had dishonored her enough already. If he could help with shitty tasks to keep his legs busy and his mouth shut, he'd do it.

Nothing Jaime hated more, than being considered a burden.

He only worried about how long could he endure it. The  _buzzing_ on his ears. Cersei's voice prickling at his skin, dragging blood at the surface until she got what she wanted一

一Jaime shaked his head.  _-Don't_. "Maybe you can talk about it with Jon Snow." He dropped his arse down at his brother's side. "You can twirl your eyelashes at him in a sweet way. He seems the type to like that kind of nonsense. "

"You'd be surprised." Tyrion lifted his head, connecting their gazes. He didn't appear panicked to talk about Snow so openly as Jaime had expected. "Commander Snow has proven to be attracted to unconventional… personalities."

Jaime raised an eyebrow. "He should be careful about giving himself away."

Tyrion lowered his head. A gust of cold wind moved his coppery curls. "So far, he's doing a decent job."

Oh. Jaime understood. "So you haven't talked to him."

"There is nothing to talk about."

"Of course. That's why you're following me around the yard like when we were little in the Rock. You looked quite sulky today, but I couldn't pinpoint the exact reason behind it." Jaime got up from the wagon and positioned himself in front of the pathetic form he called brother. "Tyrion. You will be marching south in a fortnight. You need to decide which side you're on."

Tyrion's answering snort was quite sour to hear. "Look who's talking."

Jaime narrowed his eyes. "I don't own any debts to anyone."

"Only to yourself… Oh, forget it." Tyrion shook his head abruptly. "It's very noble what you're doing. The young squires are getting attached to you, so at least you're making a good impression on a part of the population. Their laughter can be heard up to my tower every time you die dramatically under Ser Brienne's sword."

Somewhat confused by the change of conversation, Jaime let Tyrion jump down from the wagon. "What in the hell's did you mean?"

Tyrion sighed, now circling Jaime to walk in the direction of the Maesters Tower. Probably to the library. "Do not suffer in vain, dear brother. It was just me, feeling cornered. Nothing else."

"I came here because..."

Tyrion turned to him, both standing in the middle of the courtyard, attracting the attention of several curious eyes. Suspicious eyes.

Jaime, hating feeling exposed, hastened the step towards the Tower. Tyrion didn't take long to follow at his heels.

It was not until they climbed to the second store of the castle that Jaime turned to the Omega. "I came to the North to fulfill my oath. To fight against the Dead."

Tyrion looked soft at his regard of Jaime. Like he had said the stupidest of things.

"You came to Winterfell to see  _her_ one last time."

Jaime didn't find his voice back so easily. He gulped instead.

And Tyrion took the opportunity to plow onwards. "I told you before. We all believed we would die in this miserable place. I don't blame you, Jaime. I would never blame you for wanting to die honorably alongside Lady Brienne."

"Yet it feels like you're blaming me  _of something_. Speak clearly."

"As you wish. Then let's not pretend that you didn't feel relief at the notion of dying here in Winterfell, since it would save you from facing Cersei from the enemy's side."

Jaime held on to the wooden railing with his remaining hand, diverting his attention to the horizon. Towards the damn south.

"Your ambiguous behavior leaves much to be desired in front of the Council. I fear for you for when I'm not here to appease the tensions with Lady Sansa. We need you. Your point of view could help the siege strategy of King's Landing一"

"Your Queen doesn't want me around."

"But Jon does. I know it for a fact. He could support your presence in the Council."

"I wouldn't do much good. Cersei doesn't trust me. She would send me directly to the cells first than to listen to any negotiation attempt coming from me."

"You know how many Scorpions she has been building!"

"By now, she must have built twice as much since I left the Capital! I cannot know what I haven't seen with my own eyes!"

"You know what happened to the Temple of Baelor. It was completely destroyed by wildfire."

Jaime squeezed his eyelids shut. "I wasn't in King's Landing at the time. I didn't see it happen."

Tyrion snorted incredulously. "For the Seven. You  _keep_ defending her. Even when she carried out what the Mad King had wished to do to the capital's entire population."

It turned out to be too much. Jaime swore his hatred  _transpired_ out of his pores in the form of sweat. Suddenly, Winterfell's cold lost all effect. "Don't compare them. Cersei is  _not_  Aerys. "

"She slept with our cousin Lancel."

A growl broke out of his throat. Astonished, Jaime turned to Tyrion in complete incomprehension.

Instead of finding satisfaction, his brother pretended to be letting out a secret that didn't belong to him. For someone who was accusing  _him_ of having too much loyalty to his beloved sister, Tyrion certainly looked pained with what he was declaring, his fists clenched hard.

"She did it to manipulate him and get favors out of the boy. And not only did she sleep with him, but with any other man she knew would grant her political favors. All in exchange of her cunt. "

"Lancel?" That little shrimp of a man?

Tyrion just watched him. Jaime recognized the pity.

"When did it happen? For how long?"

"It doesn't matter." Tyrion winced. "I just want you to understand… that whatever you think you've left unresolved in King's Landing, dear brother… Cersei is not worth it."

Jaime wanted to hit him. He wanted to cause him the same kind of pain that was pouring all over his being. "Do you expect me to step aside, while your Queen tears our sister to shreds? Do you expect me to not feel horrified?"

"It's the same destiny she chose for us by not sending her army North.  _You know_  I'll do what I  _can_  to reason with her. Cersei is also my sister-"

"You didn't talk this way when I first arrived. Why give her away now?"

"Like I said before. I didn't think we were going to survive." Tyrion took a step toward him, but Jaime backed away. His brother sighed. "But here we are. And you look happy, Jaime. Happy, and indecisive. A bad combination."

" _Only us is what matters._ " Cersei had repeated, countless times. Jaime had believed her. Always. Since the day they had left their mother's womb.

Euron Greyjoy's face appeared in his mind, smiling arrogantly in front of the throne. The bloody man had  _known_ Cersei's cunt would eventually be his. The Golden Army had practically been his  _guarantee_.

Since when? Since when Cersei had let herself be touched by others, while Jaime had remained firm in his love for her?

"I dare to intervene now, so at least when you decide your fate… you'll do it with the truth, dear brother. At the end… it has to be  _your_ choice only. Not Cersei's."

Jaime's boots moved before the command was finished in his head. His side pushed Tyrion's frame in passing, and Jaime hissed through clenched teeth all his turmoil: "Do us both a favor, and deliver me from your vast wisdom. Even  _now_ , knowing this, I'll  _never_ kneel before your Dragon Queen."

He run down the wooden stairs, ignoring his brother's calls. He landed back into the patio and headed straight for the stables. Emotions blinded his judgment to such a degree, that he couldn't bear to be surrounded by these cursed northerners a moment more.

They were laughing behind his back, the Gods and Cersei alike.

The worst thing was一he deserved it.

For being a fucking idiot.

 

 

* * *

**[+] [+] [+]**

**JON IV**

**[+] [+] [+]**

* * *

 

 

Ser Brienne's report only served to leave Jon more restless than before.

"Are you sure? No sign of life at all?"

"No, Commander."

Ser Brienne could hardly be accused of lying, much less of inaccurate facts. Usually, the woman had good instincts. Jon sighed, sharing a look with Sansa before making a decision. "I will travel to Highpoint to verify the state of Whitehill House myself."

"You could send someone else. You don't have to put yourself at risk in a simple patrol."

"You said it yourself. It's a simple patrol. What is there to fear?"

Sansa did not appreciate her words being thrown back at her. Nothing new. Jon bit his inner cheek to disguise the smile wanting to rise at his victory.

Now quite sulky, his sister continued to read part of the parchment Jon had interrupted an hour earlier. When she spoke again, the tone was more distracted, half of her head already focused on other more imperative issues around the castle. "I suppose flying over the castle will be more effective."

Jon frowned from his place in the library window. In the distance, he saw Lord Tyrion walking with his brother in their direction. Seeing him, even at a long distance, gave away to an ephemeral sweet taste on Jon's buds. Not dissimilar to an apple's first bite.

"I'll go on horseback." He mumbled, tuning in a deep voice. He turned his gaze back to Sansa.

Her red-haired eyebrows were lifted with surprise.

"We'll need a small group of scouts." Jon turned to Ser Brienne. "I know it's been three days of hard scouting for you already, but in all honesty, I would feel safe having your instincts and your sword watching my back, Ser Brienne."

"Jon, you'll be marching south in four days."

"We'll be back in two." Sansa's stubbornness was always something to expect every time Jon made a decision. Accustomed to it by now, the Alpha didn't allow her challenging nature claw her way into him too deeply. His sister's objections were arrows he already knew how to avoid in an open field. "There may be survivors in the castle. And even if there aren't, we will have to deal with the bodies either way."

Sansa sighed, not exactly defeated.

"What say you, Ser Brienne?"

The woman showed obvious weariness. Ser Brienne sent a furtive glance in Sansa's direction, biting her lower lip. Not clear if to ask for her intervention, or to wait for her permission.

Jon softened his tone, feeling he was dealing with a wild horse. "I think my sister will not be in shortage of bodyguards right now."

"Jon is right." The redhead pacified her guardian with a simple smile. "I would feel better, knowing that you're travelling with him. I have Arya with me here, Brienne."

Jon's wish was granted with a forced inclination. Ser Brienne's entire body seemed to wobble along with the movement, clearly heavy with tiredness. Jon proceed to adjourned the meeting, knowing that he needed to prepare for the short travel. "There is nothing more to say. Retreat to rest, Ser Brienne. We leave before dawn."

"Aye, Commander." Ser Brienne did not smile, but she was firm in her obedience.

They made their way out of the library in hurried step. Jon, already lost in his head with the preparations ahead, turned to the left, in direction of the hallway that would led them to the open.

Instead, Jon came face to face with Lord Tyrion.

"Oh. Lady Brienne, Commander." Lord Tyrion gave the impression that he had tried to retreat back down the stoned steps, but the shortness of time had overtaken his small legs capacity. "I was hoping to use the library, but if Lady Sansa wants her privacy, I can go back another time."

Jon looked between the wooden door he had just closed and Lord Tyrion. "I'm sure my sister would have no objection to your company, Milord."

"No, no." Tyrion flapped one hand in the air. "It's not an urgent matter."

"If you insist."

"I _insist_."

"And I am retiring. If you excuse me, milords." Ser Brienne slided between Alpha and Omega with a louder voice than usual. "I have preparations to attend."

Tyrion flattened himself against the stone wall to give the woman the necessary space to keep walking. If Jon was not feeling so nervous, he would find the picture entertaining.

For a moment, Lord Tyrion seemed very interested in watching Ser Brienne's back disappear. "I should have kept my mouth shut."

Jon blinked.

When the Counselor faced him, his eyes got wide with whatever expression he was reading off Jon's face. "Oh, no, no. What I meant was..."

Jon frowned when the Half-Man trailed off his sentence.

Lord Tyrion's second option was to sigh heavily. "Well. In retrospect, I should've kept more than my mouth inaccessible."

Jon's whole body hardened immediately at the implications of that. An uneasy period of odd silence followed.

A grimace twisted Lord Tyrion's face. "I was only jesting. No offense was intended, Commander."

"I have preparations to attend too." Jon growled low. His Alpha grumbled with the notion of leaving. Jon ignored it, beginning to walk around Lord Tyrion in the same manner Lady Brienne had opted to make her escape. He saw the many tries the Omega's mouth did to produce coherent sounds一perhaps to stop Jon from walking away, or perhaps to keep jesting at Jon's expenses.

The hand holding his forearm was a surprise.

"It was  _terrible_ jesting, I emphasized."

Jon growled again. He felt Lord Tyrion's fingers pressing on his skin, insisting on having his attention. He was a like a child in some ways. Except his games were crueler.

Jon lowered his gaze to the other man's. He forced himself to show more humility, taking a deep breath to relax his muscles.

He nodded, accepting the apology.

Then he licked his lips, a terrible plan gathering form at frightening speed. "Considering the library is occupied, Milord, I can offer you another quiet place to read or write if you wish. It isn't far from the main Fortress. Although it would mean another walk in the opposite direction of this tower."

Jon's gloved hand curled up, holding Tyrion's forearm while he spoke. The shared connection caused an automatic response from their biologies. Lord Tyrion's natural essence penetrated Jon's nostrils and made him dizzy.

When Tyrion muttered, "It would be my honor, Commander," Jon just nodded. He released the Half-Man without further consideration. He went ahead to leave the Tower behind them as soon as possible.

The main Fortress, apart from hosting the Stark family for generations, had certain spaces that Jon had given to Sam to continue his residual studies from the Citadel. Guiding Lord Tyrion to one of those blind spots was easy.

He knocked on the door first, to make sure that Sam wasn't there, and was the first to enter to check, when he got no answer. The chamber, unlike the rest of the castle, was mostly wood, which helped feed the heat coming from the hot springs inside the main stone wall.

Sam had left lit candles all over the place. A sign that he hadn't been away long.

"Sam brought books from the Citadel that might interest you." Jon checked the titles spread out along the desk. "History books, mostly. Some of medicine."

"Old tales, I see." Tyrion already had a book in his hands when he turned around. "The Adventures of Ser Duncan The Tall. Sometimes simpler stories are better to feed a man's imagination."

Jon narrowed his eyes slightly at the title. He didn't find sense to its existence, knowing Sam's current focus on his studies.

Unsuspected, little did Lord Tyrion know of Sam's rigorous search, tracing bloodlines from ancient Houses to find forgotten Targaryen lineages. So far the fruits were scarce to none, but Sam was determined to find something一 _someone_ 一meaningful.

Watching the Lion get comfortable at Sam's desk, Jon began to retreat.

"You should be more careful with these gifts, Jon Snow. You'll incite gossip."

Jon raised an eyebrow. "I would think that we have committed acts more worthy of gossip, than sharing a library."

With his eyes fixed on the first page of the old tale, the Omega smirked.

Jon cleared his throat. "I won't be at Winterfell for a couple of days. I will travel to Highpoint to search for survivors. Could you let the Queen know in my behalf? "

The smile vanished. "Does she still refuses to receive you in her chambers?"

Jon shrugged. "Her fury is long lasting."

"As infallible as your stubbornness, no doubt."

"Excuse me?" An incredulous snort came from Jon. "At least my war tactics are not being based on sheer desperation."

"I seem to recall a time not so long ago when the King of the North came to my call against his advisers, begging to mine the Queen's dragon glass. From my point of view, you looked tremendously desperate back then too."

"The circumstances were different."

"How exactly?"

"The War against the Dead put our survival at risk. My urgency was totally justified. This quarrel is about politics tricks. "

Tyrion rolled his eyes. "That's  _what_  the game of thrones is about, Jon."

"A game I am not a part of." Frustrated, the Alpha sighed. "If you're looking for a fight-"

"Not at all." Tyrion closed the book with a thump. "But it seems to be my fate to stir them today. All I want is a quiet place, a good book in my lap, and a goblet of wine to keep my big mouth busy enough."

"What do you want me say?" Jon returned to the Omega's vicinity with cautious steps.

Tyrion raised an eyebrow. "I guess what I'm getting at... it's a confirmation that you remain loyal to our Queen."

"I am."

The Lion's eyes shone. "So, why did you refuse Oberyn Martell's terms?"

Jon closed his eyes, an impatient noise rising in his throat.

"You have opened a gap between Daenerys and yourself with this decision! You must understand my concern."

"I've done  _enough_  already." Jon growled. He walked back to the Omega, placing his hands around the desk to hover over him. "I have bent the knee before her. I am sending my people to  _die_  for her, in a war that does not concern them. She cannot ask more of me."

The severity of the mercy he witnessed in the Lannister's face left him briefly confused. Here they were again. Despite his best attempts of the contrary, Jon was  _here_ again, breathing a scent he shouldn't bask in, and feeling a fire in his gut that had only led him to grave mistakes.

"I believe in Daenerys. Don't question it again," he murmured.

"What if it's her, the one who doubts you?" Tyrion twisted his body to one side to set the book on the desk. "It was a test. You know it was. And you deliberately decided to fail it. You could have accepted Dorne's terms and wait for the war to decide the rest. "

Jon had failed every test since he was born, having Rhaegar Targaryen's blood running through his veins. "Her anger will abate. Dany can be emotional ridden, but she usually reconsiders when she is given her space."

"Maybe before. But now… Things have changed within her."

Jon sighed. Ser Jorah Mormont's absence had certainly broken something inside Dany. Even so, Jon doubted that it would break her will. "I'll talk to her when I get back."

"Or better yet. Don't. Your face could unleash her fury again. Wait until you get to Dragonstone; the flight south will improve her spirits."

"What's wrong with my face?"

When Lord Tyrion stretched his face towards him, leaving his neck exposed, he did it with a wicked smile. "Absolutely nothing. That's the problem. Any woman would want to tear your eyes from your face just to feel secure in her own beauty."

There was little Jon could say about it. He cleared his throat, letting the joke live its course.

Tyrion had other ideas, raising his right hand to stop Jon from retreating. It landed near his collarbone, holding on to the laces of Jon's jerkin. "That was my poor attempt at flirting." His nose twisted with self-criticism. "Another misfire, apparently. Today has been the best day for them."

Oh.

Certainly his appearance had been a constant source of cruel jesting among his brothers at the Watch. His appearance had never symbolized anything positive in his eyes, just another armor to protect against the insults of others.

Being a victim of the opposite一of being  _appreciated_ , instead of being rejected _,_ filled him with a singular sensation.

He did not give time for an adverse reaction. He lifted Tyrion's chin with his gloved fingers, caressing his beard and then pressing at the half-man's jaw to demand access.

They kissed as if they had waited to break fast of five mornings. The Omega fastened on his neck, taking advantage of his seated position. Jon remained crouched, encompassing him with his arms. They moaned and growled in unison.

Jon inhaled the salt of the sea off the Lannister's neck. He wondered if some previous lover had ever confessed to the Omega his center shared the same flavor.

"Secure the door." Tyrion bit the cartilage in his ear, leaving a trail of wet kisses down his cheekbone. "I want to  _feel you_ in my mouth."

Jon lost stability of his knees for a moment. His cock reacted to the shamelessness, hardening as easily as a wolf salivated at the smell of raw meat.

Not only did he close the door of the chamber, he secured it with a wooden bar.

After that, they did not engage in complex activities such as thinking. Their bodies repeated the same dance of last time, their hands struggling to dominate一they were limited on time and limited on opportunities一Tyrion swallowed back his groans when he saw Jon kneel in front of him, sinking his face into his lap, exploring his covered center.

Through the breeches' material, Jon detected everything. The flavor. The smell. The pulse of their hearts.

"Jon." The small palms combed at the curls of his temples. " _Jon_ , come up here, for the Seven Hells. "

Jon felt his passion revive at the husky tone.

They kissed again.

Their tongues were reunited with familiarity. Their faces twisted in those imperfect arches that used to involve any mouth-to-mouth connection. Jon appreciated the rawness of the act. He liked the honesty with which their bodies continued to be craved by the other.

Ruled by conviction of not conceiving bastard children, all his life Jon had done his best to keep his biological impulses under control一Ygritte and Daenerys being the scarce exceptions. He could count on one hand the times physical desire had outlived his principles, and only because strong  _feelings_ had been involved.

With Tyrion Lannister, breaking rules was becoming easy. Although reluctantly, Jon was allowing to being dragged down to another risky political position.

When his cock was uncovered in the stillness of the chamber, the Alpha leaned on the desk surface, waiting.

Tyrion's fingers knew what to do, massaging his cock in preparation, from the base to the tip, before tasting the head with his own mouth. Jon fought against the natural urge to close his eyes. He did not wish to miss a single thing.

The first contact was wet heat and friction.

Tyrion started slowly. Or he intended. Soon both were dragged to an accelerated pace, affected by the high possibility of being interrupted. Jon stroked Tyrion's nape, gently, over and over again, feeling his entire body melt like snow exposed to the sun. His hips rippled with natural tempo, and Tyrion clung to Jon's waist with his freed hand.

Jon made a strangled sound.

There was no way to pretend  _this_ was not happening.

Pleasure escalated quickly all over his body.

Tyrion blindly kissed Jon's hip, when he needed to catch his breath. His fingers continued to stimulate him, quite stubborn, and Jon ended up aiding him, removing his glove and replacing Tyrion's with his own. Abruptly, he pushed the Omega back to the chair, forcing them to look at each other's eyes, whilst he yanked at his cock furiously.

His lover's red face rose to the challenge. Jon looked at the swollen lips intently. A sheet of moisture covered the Omega's face and his eyes appeared clouded by a dense fog. Jon remembered that same face, twisting during their last rutting. He remembered the colorful curses.

He remembered the  _feeling_ of fucking the Lannister lion to the last  _inch_.

With a grunt, his seed was expulse, tainting the floor.

"Shit." Jon gasped, right at the end, limbs tense with the intense release. - _Not enough. Still not enough._

"Come here." Tyrion pulled at Jon's side, propelling the taller man to fall against him. The Omega kissed him, lazy but with warmth, briefly circling Jon's face with his hands. He then allowed the Alpha's head to settle on his shoulder.

Jon sighed, feeling Tyrion's own short breath graze his cheek.

"Seven Gods would not be enough."

Jon grunted.

His knees began to resent the position, but he did not feel ready to let go. "What do you mean?" His voice vibrated against the leather. When a response wasn't forthcoming, he raised his head.

Eyes closed, Tyrion indicated to be thinking out loud. "They could be a hundred of them, and even then… Can't say I would be particularly fearful of their wrath."

"Mm." Jon frowned.

Tyrion gave a lopsided smile. "Eloquent as always." Before Jon tried to get up, a hand grabbed his chin. "If you want to fuck me again, boy, you only have to say it. Do not torture yourself in vain, thinking that I will slap your pretty face like a scandalous maid. "

Jon swallowed hard. He found his inner Alfa definitely interested, but he suffered to produce a verbal response. Already, Tyrion had his right hand sliding down the Alpha's stomach, touching the knot that had never entirely diminished. His cock wasn't declining either either, despite his recent climax.

"How do you want me? On my knees? Or perhaps, you'd like me to mount you again?"

_Shit._

Jon growled. "Don't talk like that."

All at once, he disentangling himself from the Councillor. He hurried to re-tie his breeches, ignoring the uncomfortable state of his arousal.

"Don't talk like what? Like we aren't two people seeking a pleasant distraction, before marching to war? "

"It's… I don't know." Jon hated his tongue for getting stuck. He ran a hand down his face, wiping sweat. "Your tone. This isn't a game. Stop making jokes about matters that don't merit it. "

"I'm not joking." Tyrion changed his face to something more severe, apparently infected by the same discomfort. "We're fucking, are we not? Or do you prefer to call it something else? "

"Tell me what you meant." Jon turned to face him. "Before."

The Dwarf's mouth turned into a pout.

Jon exhaled, patience to the limit. He reprised the same path that had already taken him directly to the Omega. He settled at his feet. The second time, he would kneel in front of a lover. "You don't have to fear the Gods. Or me. "

"Feeling fear is the smartest thing you can do, Jon Snow. That way you realize that you are only a man. And men die. "

Jon could not help it. His smile was spontaneous. "Not in my case."

Another set of emotions crossed the Lannister features. Exasperation, humor. "Let's not to put that to the test again so quickly." Rubbing his temple, it was the Half-Man's turn to sigh. "I don't know. It's pretty unusual. "

"What is?"

"Everything _._ " Tyrion enunciated slowly. "Jon, you must feel it _._ "

Jon knew exactly what he was referring to. "It has always been there. Compatibilities don't fade just because we didn't recognize ours when we first met. "

"Some of them can. They usually mature with time and lose their effect."

"According to whom? Compatibilities between Alpha and Omega are scarce. They're not so easy to decipher. "

"I've seen it happen." Grave, the lion seemed to melt with the shadows for a moment. "There is little room for compatibilities when marriage alliances are involved to secure Houses, Jon."

"And in equal measure a compatibility had been used to seal century old-enemies into peace treaties. We can be hypocrites about it, but the truth is we don't know for sure."

Tyrion seemed to squirm around the chair. "What solution do you offer, then? This scenario is far from convenient."

Jon licked his lips, hesitant. He still did not know exactly what motivated Lord Tyrion一what this bond meant to him exactly.

"There's not much we can do right now. Not until the war is over. "

"If we survive, that is."

Jon grimaced. "You won't be present on the battlefield. There's no reason you should expect to die. "

Tyrion snorted, resting his arms around the chair. "There are other ways to die in a war. With my sister involved, one can expect anything. Her hatred for me has no limits. Must be worse now, with Jaime deciding to join our side. In her eyes, I stole his favorite tricket, and she's a vengeful woman. And let's not forget about  _our_ Queen. Daenerys has already put my allegiance in doubt. Quite publicly. Finding out I'm sucking her former lover's cock won't do me any favors. "

"And you call me naive," Jon hissed, sitting on the edge of the desk. "Any feelings between us no longer hold priority, considering how easily she wanted to offer me to Oberyn Martell. She may have been informed by now where exactly you spent the night after the feast. At the least, she suspects us. At the most, she was seeking to punish me. In either of those cases, she acted out of childness, not love. A childness she eventually has to grow out of if she wants to rule."

The Councillor's eyes widened with the revelation. "If that is true, she was testing me as well."

Jon let the silence be sufficient confirmation.

"Stopping now is the best course of action, then."

Even though Jon had expected it, the conclusion drew a growl from his chest. "We are not betraying her if we both want her to win this War."

"We  _are_ betraying her if Daenerys considers it so! It's obvious she has residual feelings for you if she was that invested in testing your loyalty. She doesn't need this kind of distractions. Not when she's going after Cersei. She'll have enough mind games as it is."

-" _I couldn't love him the way he wanted. Not the way I love you."_ Jon briefly closed his eyes. "Daenerys doesn't love me."

Jon knew very well Dany's devotion towards the Iron Throne did not leave room for other rivals, sentimental wise, or of any other kind. She had made it clear at the Crypts and later on in the aftermath of their confrontation. Jon didn't resent her for it. He still believed she could do more good to the Seven Kingdoms that Queen Cersei.

Daenerys had a good heart. He had seen it. He had  _felt_ it, thumping against his own.

But she had to respect his limits. There wasn't much else he could claim for himself.

"Where did you go, just now?" A soft touch landed on his foreman.

Tyrion's confused expression felt like a push to tell the truth. Jon wanted to. He yearned to share the burden with someone else, apart from Sam…

But he had done enough stupid things in one day. - _Do not involve him. It will be better for him._

Beyond unconventional Compatibilities, Jon was a man of honor first. Of duty.

So he pushed himself away from the desk. "I will keep my distance as you have requested, my Lord. You are in the right, we should be more cautious."

Being his idea, little objection could leave the Lion's mouth. The Omega looked caught off guard at his change of heart, but he recovered fast. Always an adaptable man. "I wish you an uneventful trip, Commander Snow. I will inform the Queen of your return just as you had asked."

Jon removed the wooden bar that he had placed across the door to secure it. He glanced over his shoulder one last time.

Lord Tyrion demonstrated he didn't know what to do with his hands without a book to occupy them. Jon watched his fingers twist together, small but elegant. Both shared a long last look.

Just as it had happened with Dany, Jon felt an intangible distance pushing them on opposite sides.

Cold filled him, without yet marching outside.

He finally nodded at farewell, and left the chamber.

 

 

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**End of Part iii.**

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NoA: Next chapter, Brienne and Jon bond over their stupid Lannister boyfriends!
> 
> Also, not a Sansa fan. Don't expect much exposition about her.


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